When the lights come out in the cottages br Along the shores at eve, br And across the darkening water br The last pale colours leave; br br And up from the rock-ridged pasture slopes br The sheep-bell tinklings steal, br And the folds are shut, and the shepherds br Turn to their quiet meal; br br And even here, on the unfenced height, br No journeying wind goes by, br But the earth-sweet smells and the home-sweet sounds br Mount, like prayer, to the sky; br br Then from the door of my opened heart br Old blindness and pride are driven, br Till I know how high is the humble, br The dear earth how close to heaven.